Fred threw his hands up. “You can’t expect me to turf folk out their beds at this hour. Their coachman says they’re on their way to Mytton Grange. If you send word, I’m sure they’ll come and take ‘em off your hands.”
Alexander gave his most stern frown. “Are you saying you won’t help me?”
“What can I do? I’ve already given up my own bed.” Fred sighed. He stared into Alexander’s eyes and then said, “I suppose I could see if anyone minds sharing.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Miss Bromwell said coming to stand at his side. “The Earl of Hale could not possibly allow gently-bred ladies to stay at an inn full of cockfighters. I’m sure he will be most happy to shelter us for this evening and on the morrow we shall send word to Mr. Sutherby.”
“Mr. Sutherby?” Alexander enquired. “Who the blazes is Mr. Sutherby?”
Miss Bromwell straightened her back and raised her chin. “Mr. Sutherby lives at Mytton Grange, a well-kept house a few miles from here. He is extremely sociable and well-mannered and will welcome us with open arms.”
There was no mistaking the concealed insult. “He sounds like a perfect gentleman.”
“He is the very best of gentlemen. Mr. Sutherby is to be my betrothed.”
Chapter 4
Evelyn could not decide if the Earl of Hale despised her, despised women, or despised people in general.
He was rude, conceited and almost always angry. No wonder they made up stories about him being so hideous. Outwardly, his clear complexion revealed a strong, handsome face. His steel-blue eyes were captivating; his dimpled chin suggested a playful charm. Inwardly, he was the most abhorrent gentleman she’d ever had the misfortune to meet.
Thankfully, Mrs. Shaw demonstrated a level of hospitality one expected from her master and had brought a bowl of broth up to her aunt’s room. The woman still hovered in the background while Evelyn attempted to feed her aunt a spoonful of the vegetable soup.
“I have never seen her look so pale.”
“I wouldn’t worry, miss. The master knows what he’s doing, and if he says she’ll be right in a day or two, you can be sure of it.”
“At least, one of us has some faith in him,” Evelyn said not bothering to hide her disdain.
Mrs. Shaw shuffled forward. “I know he’s not an easy gentleman to converse with. I know he seems a little sharp, a little brash at times —”
“Brash? He is downright rude.”
“He doesn’t take kindly to visitors that’s all.”
“Well, he’s in luck. I doubt he’s likely to receive any when he behaves like such a heathen.”
The Earl of Hale had refused to ride back to his estate, Stony Cross, in the cart. Evelyn had sat and watched him stalk off through the forest, baffled by his constant sour mood. By the time they’d reached the old house, and a servant had come down to unlock the gate, the earl was already home hiding in his study.
They’d received no welcome or assistance, no offer of food or hot water to bathe — nothing.
“It’s complicated,” the housekeeper said cryptically. “He’s not what he seems.”
The woman’s loyalty knew no bounds, which she supposed was a rather endearing quality.
Evelyn placed the bowl on the table next to the bed. “People seldom are what they portray.” She walked over to the washstand, wrung out a cloth and came back to wipe her aunt’s cheeks.
“Why don’t you leave her to rest? You could do with a wash and something to eat. There’s water in your room next door though it’ll be a little cool now.”
Evelyn’s stomach gurgled in response at the mere thought of food. “What if something happens while I’m away?”
“She just needs rest. I’ll pop in every ten minutes or so to check on her. Besides, you’re no good to her like that. She’ll need you fit and healthy.”
Evelyn nodded. “I suppose you’re right. I’ll wash and then nip back in for five minutes.”
Mrs. Shaw smiled. “Come and find me in the kitchen when you’re done.”
Evelyn spent ten minutes staring at her reflection in the mirror. The bruise on her cheek would take more than a week to heal, and she knew she’d still be finding knots in her hair come June.